record.

The phonograph now began to play a jerky jumble
of sounds which proved so bewildering that after a
moment Scraps stuffed her patchwork apron into the
gold horn and cried: "Stop--stop! That's the other
extreme. It's extremely bad!"

Muffled as it was, the phonograph played on.

"If you don't shut off that music I'll smash
your record," threatened Ojo.

The music stopped, at that, and the machine
turned its horn from one to another and said
with great indignation: "What's the matter
now? Is it possible you can't appreciate rag-
time?"

"Scraps ought to, being rags herself," said
the cat; "but I simply can't stand it; it makes
my whiskers curl."

"It is, indeed, dreadful!" exclaimed Ojo, with
a shudder.

"It's enough to drive a crazy lady mad,"
murmured the Patchwork Girl. "I'll tell you what,
Vic," she added as she smoothed out her apron and
put it on again, "for some reason or other you've